


a history of blisters

by gayprophets



Series: Author's Favorites [9]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Trans Character, Trans Duck Newton, Trans Male Character, Transitioning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-26
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-12-18 03:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18241376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayprophets/pseuds/gayprophets
Summary: The last time Duck sees Minerva - or, what he thought was the last time he’d see Minerva - went without an emotional modifier in his memory. Not that it didn’t deserve one, but that he couldn’t find the words to describe what he felt about it. It was unlike waving with his mother and father in the airport as Jane went off to do her first out of the country mission work (bittersweet), unlike getting the job as a district ranger in the Monongahela (elation), or seeing his new chest without the dressings for the first time (satisfaction). It just existed as something he thought about from time to time, mentally turned over like a rock in his hands, and then set back down.





	a history of blisters

**Author's Note:**

  * For [toastling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/toastling/gifts).



> tw needles & injections.  
> for @ cheerie on tumblr who drew me a GREAT duck in return. title from this is your life by the killers.

The last time Duck sees Minerva - or, what he thought was the last time he’d see Minerva - went without an emotional modifier in his memory. Not that it didn’t deserve one, but that he couldn’t find the words to describe what he felt about it. It was unlike waving with his mother and father in the airport as Jane went off to do her first out of the country mission work (bittersweet), unlike getting the job as a district ranger in the Monongahela National Forest (elation), or seeing his new chest without the dressings for the first time ( _satisfaction_ ). It just existed as something he thought about from time to time, mentally turned over like a rock in his hands, and then set back down. He’d do it when he was feeling unsure about his future, the path he was taking, as some kind of internal worry stone. As it was - he had thought - a dream, there was no real reason to ascribe some sort of feeling to it.

Duck had been in his college dorm room as a freshman in his second semester, no roommate as a ‘medical necessity’. (More that they couldn’t risk putting him with either the women or the men.) At the time his major was undeclared, but he’d switch to majoring in earth science and minoring in forestry by the end of that semester. He leaned against his desk, holding the tiny vial of testosterone up to the fading spring light coming in from the window as he drew his shot out of it. This would be his fifth shot, his fifth week on testosterone, officially over a month, which thrilled and scared him in equal measure. He pulled it out, switched over the needles, and clenched the body of the syringe in his mouth to pull down his pants to get access to his thighs -

“Duck Newton!” Shouted a voice to his right. Duck jumped what felt like a half mile out of his skin and almost spat out the syringe. He took his shot out of his mouth with one hand and pulled his pants up with the other.

“Fuck!” He spat. “Minerva, don’t scare me like that,  _lord_.”

Minerva chuckled. “Apologies, Duck Newton! I have -,” And she paused. Although Duck couldn’t make out her facial expressions, the air that her figure gave off suddenly went from grandiose and confident to confused and concerned. “Duck Newton, what is that you’re holding?”

Duck was suddenly filled with the urge to _eat_ the damn syringe, stuff it down his shirt, hide it somehow, like if he were to let her see it it would vanish. He’d explained it so many times to his mom and his dad and his entire extended family and he just _did not want to do it again._ It’s completely irrational, as Minerva was a ghost or spectral or something, it wasn’t like she could _take_ it from him.

“It’s…” Duck closed his fist around it, slowly going to tuck it behind his back. “My medication.” He ended on. It’s not a lie.

“Duck Newton, are you sick?” She asked. “You don’t look unwell, and our link should soften any conditions or diseases that may befall you -,”

“No, I’m fine.” Duck said, cutting her off. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t had a real asthma attack in a while, just a few moments of coughing on occasion.

“Then what ails you, Duck Newton? Perhaps I could be of some assistance! I am not without medical knowledge -,”

“I’m a man!” Duck said, shutting his eyes and rubbing his forehead with the hand not holding his shot.

“I know this -,” Minerva started, sounding as if this was a total non sequitur.

Duck talked over her. “I’m tired of lookin’ like a girl! I don’t feel right, I hate gettin’ called ma’am, and I’m so sick and fuckin’ tired of explainin’ myself to everyone! I’m a man, and this -,” he shook the fist with his shot in it out towards her, “-helps me! I’m finally feelin’ _normal_! I’m startin’ to look _right_! These last five weeks have been the best of my entire life! And I don’t _care_ what anybody else thinks about it! I wanna look like _me_!”

It was quiet. Duck, thinking that she’d gone, opened his eyes.

Minerva stood in front of him, her hands loosely clasped, head tilted ever so slightly.

“Your medication is helping you to feel - to look - like yourself?” She asked.

Duck blinked. “Y-Yeah.” He said.

Minerva crossed the room in one stride. She towered over him, her soft blue glow illuminating his shirt with cyan light. She went to put her massive hands on his shoulders, then seemed to remember she can’t touch him, so they hover there, electric, a sensation he both could feel and couldn’t at the same time. The knowledge of something touching him without the weight. For a while, she just looked at him.

“Duck Newton,” She said, and he couldn’t see her smile but he could hear it in her great booming voice, suddenly gone quiet and wavering with what he thought might be tears. “I could not see it until last few weeks that you were struggling. And now, looking back at before, and comparing to this last month…” She paused, and her voice broke. “Duck Newton, you seem so _happy_.”

And then she was gone.

Duck stood for a second, waiting for her to reappear. And then he sat down and pushed the tiny air bubble that had formed in the syringe out, and shoved his pants down the rest of the way. He wiped his thigh clean with an alcohol pad, pinched it, took a deep breath, and pushed the needle in, exhaled, pushed the testosterone out. And just like that, he was five weeks on testosterone. He looked at the hair beginning to crawl down his thighs and up his stomach and smiled.

* * *

He doesn’t see Minerva again until he’s forty-five, running for his life through the woods. He wonders if she’s going to bring it up, and she does, finally, about a week after he, Aubrey, and Ned killed the abomination.

“So, Duck Newton, forgive me, but I have to say I am ignorant on some things about your world. Are you still taking your medicine? Or have you stopped?”

Duck sits down on his couch as Minerva stands in front of him, one arm crossed over her chest and her other hand under her chin. “Yeah,” Duck says. “Gotta take it for the rest of my life.”

She hums. “I assume it’s working as it should then, Duck Newton. How many years have you been taking it?”

“Twenty-six.” He says. “Gonna be twenty-seven this spring.”

“I am so _glad_ , Duck Newton.” She says, and he can hear her smile again, without tears this time, her earnestness, her absolute sincerity. “You seem as though you are happy.”

Duck thinks about laughing with Juno the first time his voice cracked in front of her, about looking in the mirror and realizing his weight has shifted from his thighs to his stomach, about acne and shaving his mustache and trying new deodorants, and about being called _sir_ and his chest hair and arm hair and his sister introducing him as _my brother_ , about looking in the mirror one day and unexpectedly thinking _yes, this is_ right _, this is_ me. The simple joy behind recognizing the face and body he sees in there.

“You know what?” Duck says, rubbing his chin and feeling the stubble forming. “I am. I’m happy.”

They smile at each other for a moment, and then Minerva is gone again.

He’ll see her tomorrow at 6:14.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at @ elfslur on tumblr. Comments and kudos are appreciated. Hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
